Magical Memories
by Rose DiVerona
Summary: Oneshot. Harry reflects on his introduction to the magical world, and three special places on his journey from an ordinary life to a magical one.


A/N: I just started writing this because I was bored, and it turned into some semblance of a one-shot, so I decided to go ahead and submit it. It's from Harry's POV, as he reflects back on his introduction to the wizarding world. Loosely based off the movie instead of the book, but it could be for either except for maybe a few small details. If it matters, it takes place a day after the epilogue in Book 7.

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling would not be involved in a nasty court case right now. I would.

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**Magical Memories**

It was just an ordinary day in London. It could have been yesterday. For many children, it was. But for me, it was twenty-six years ago. That makes me feel old, but it's the truth.

It was my eleventh birthday. So far, my life, had been monotonous, to say the least. I lived with my Uncle Vernon, my Aunt Petunia, and my cousin Dudley, who was only a month older than me. I didn't really know anything about my past, other than that my parents had been in a car crash on Halloween when I was a year old, and they both died. I always wondered where I was when it happened, but Aunt Petunia said it was a silly thing to think about…and not to ask questions.

So, until I was eleven, nothing exciting ever happened in my life. My cousin bullied me, my aunt ignored me, my uncle yelled at me. I didn't have any hope of getting out of that life, simply because I didn't have any other family that I knew of.

Then I got the letter. I still remember gazing down disbelievingly at the emerald ink on the envelope. It clearly said, "Mr. H. Potter", but I had never received a letter or a card from anyone, even on my birthday, so I wondered if my eyes were deceiving me. But they were not. Though my uncle confiscated that and many following letters, I eventually learned what they had been meant to relate to me, through the unexpected appearance of a giant. Or rather, as I would learn only years later, a half-giant, Hagrid, who was to become a good friend.

_"You're a wizard, Harry."_

Those four words changed my life forever. Disbelief came first; even the thought of insanity. But I wanted to believe it, because it explained away many of the strange occurrences in my life, and also gave me something over my spoiled cousin – because there was _no way _Dudley could be anything more than just Dudley.

And then I finally got to read the letter:

_'Mr. Potter, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…'_

I was almost ready to believe it on my own, when the Dursleys blew away my last doubts. When Aunt Petunia began listing her many grievances against her "special" younger sister, my mother, well…there could be no more questions. It was true. I _was _a wizard.

Hagird whisked me away to London, where we entered a pub that, curiously, no one else on the street could see. The pub was full of friendly people, _who all knew my name_. I, Harry James Potter, eleven years old and only then discovering my true destiny, was famous.

That was just the beginning. Hagrid took me out the back door and into a world far stranger and more wondrous than any I could have imagined. Diagon Alley, where there were the regular shops – bookstores, candy shops, apothecaries – but also an owl shop, a flying broom shop, and much, much more. And does your ordinary apothecary sell fish eyes or salamander toe?

My first introduction to magical creatures was the goblins at the wizarding bank. Short, stout figures with long fingers and sour expressions, they weren't exactly a pretty or friendly-looking folk. I stayed close to Hagrid, but the wonder of the incredible building, coupled with the pleasant surprise of having money all my own, gave me comfort and made Gringotts a memorable experience in a good way.

Buying school supplies was interesting. I was measuring out powdered unicorn horn, purchasing books in a shop where the items often moved or made noises, and, best of all – buying a magic wand. Buying my wand from Ollivanders sort of cemented everything – being told I was a wizard, finding out about my past and the magical world…it was all real, now that I had the instrument that would help me perform the kind of magic my parents had known.

And then – King's Cross Station. Platform 9 ¾. Muggles didn't know it existed, but I knew it had to, because it said so on my ticket. I got lucky, listening in to a wizarding conversation and finding the platform by going straight through the brick barrier between Platforms 9 and 10. Yet another new experience, only the first of many I was to have in the near and not-so-near future.

The Hogwarts Express was a train just like any number of others I'd seen, except that it signified something. The transport from reality to the magical realm. And the people! They were all dressed oddly, in robes like the ones I'd bought in Diagon Alley, and everyone knew everyone. Or at least that's the way it seemed, with all the yelling and laughing and talking and mingling. Other nervous eleven-year-olds like myself were scattered about – they were the ones clutching their parents' hands, and trying to smile. But at least most of them had a magical upbringing. I was new.

But setting all that aside – Hogwarts. I remember the castle looming overhead, the lights from the hundreds of windows beckoning me in; promising me a home where I would be welcome and given a chance to exercise my strange powers, instead of hide them.

And I did find home at school. I found home, friends, adventure, and so much more. Even these many years later, I can still recall it all as if it was happening right before me. You don't forget the life-changing moments in your life. And I have had too many of those to count.

I may be too old to attend Hogwarts, but I can still go back to visit, and I don't need an excuse to go to Diagon Alley or the train station at any whim. I still treasure these places as being integral parts of my journey from being "Just Harry" to truly taking on the role of "The Boy Who Lived." And time can't take that away.

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A/N: As I said, this wrote itself, and I'm not really sure how it would be classified. But if you liked it, please honor it with a review.


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